


Watch

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Shameless [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Facials, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Snowballing, Watching, Window Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean knows what he wants—but Castiel won’t take, at least not now. They have an arrangement for the next few days: Castiel won’t come until Dean really deserves it, a date that’s slowly driving Dean up the wall. He’s needed Castiel in him for a week, and Castiel is apparently content to make him squirm with just the thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Destiel Fic Bingo](http://destielsmutbrigade.tumblr.com) [squares](http://oi65.tinypic.com/2mezgww.jpg), "Bath, Window, Cuddle, Paradise, Watching."

The sound of the semi downshifting outside the Paradise Motel isn’t what wakes Dean from his nap; over the years, he’s learned to tune out trucks and cars plowing through at all hours of the day and night, their noise nothing but a rumble in the distance, the soundtrack to his life. No, it’s a closer noise that rouses him, the click of a door opening and closing, the soft rush of warm air greeting his overheated skin, luring him awake with faint hints of promise. _Castiel_ , he remembers, draws a hand down his bare chest and rests it at his hip, idly stroking over scarred skin, bypassing his cock entirely.

He’s been hard since Castiel started his bath half an hour ago, content to let his arousal wait until he could do something about it with Castiel in the room. Jerking off gets him by, but it’s better when he can get Castiel’s hand on him, in him, teasing him to an inevitable climax and leaving him boneless in the aftermath. “Y’should come here,” Dean murmurs and stretches lengthwise, hands over his head, back bowing off the bed.

Somewhere across the room, Castiel chuckles and pulls a fresh set of clothes from his duffel, setting them on the desk backing up to a plate mirror. Dean can see his reflection when he opens his eyes, can see the small of Castiel’s back above the towel draped loosely around his waist. Dean’s cock sits heavy in the crease of his hip, twitching when he catches Castiel’s eye in the mirror, Castiel just as mirthful as ever. “You can go ahead,” Castiel says, low and soft. He turns to pull his towel off and folds it over the back of the desk chair, allowing Dean to marvel at the tanned skin he offers, flushed from the bath and dripping in places, more sweat than anything else. They should really turn the air on—but if Dean gets this view as a result, it can stay off for all he cares.

Dean’s cock gives an appreciative twitch when he takes himself in hand, mostly for show; Castiel doesn’t watch him at first, too busy sliding his sweatpants on torturously slow, one leg at a time before he pulls them over his hips, ties the drawstring together. Dean sucks in a breath and gives himself another tug, lets his head fall back onto the pillows. It’s barely anything at first, too gentle to get him anywhere close to coming, but he enjoys it all the while, lets his hand travel and pull and cup himself, a finger dipping into his cleft while Castiel gazes back in the mirror, cobalt eyes dark, lusting.

Dean knows what he wants—but Castiel won’t take, at least not now. They have an arrangement for the next few days: Castiel won’t come until Dean really deserves it, a date that’s slowly driving Dean up the wall. He’s needed Castiel in him for a week, and Castiel is apparently content to make him squirm with just the thought.

It’s somehow hotter knowing that Castiel is watching him whenever Dean does this, touches himself with the fantasy of Castiel’s bare cock in his ass, fucking him deep, _wet_. He gasps out a breath with the image, gripping the base of his cock when the rush of release almost crests. “C’mon,” Dean pants after the need passes, lets himself go to continue stroking where he wants it the most, his fingers pressing insistently over his rim. “Can’t tell me you don’t want it.”

“I do,” Castiel answers, closer to him now, warmth radiating off his body.

Blindly, Dean reaches out for him, palming the inside of Castiel’s thigh; Castiel is still hot through his sweats, scalding, and Dean wants nothing more than to pull him close and suck his cock down, let Castiel fuck his mouth until he can’t speak. Instead, Castiel pushes Dean back into the sheets and hands him a half-used bottle, along with the thick silicon he’s been substituting for Castiel’s cock for the last few days.

It may not be the same thing, but at least it vibrates.

“Fuck yourself,” Castiel whispers and sits at Dean’s side on the bed, steals a kiss from Dean’s parted lips. “I want to watch you like this.”

With a heated sigh, Dean nods, feels the warmth rising up his chest and neck, painting him a brilliant crimson. Castiel leaves him without so much as another touch and pulls the desk chair out, sits with his legs straddling the seat, his arms propped up on the wooden back. He’s hard, Dean notices, the bulge at the front of Castiel’s sweats more than obscene. Dean knows what he’s hiding, how thick Castiel is, how much Castiel leaks when he’s enjoying himself, more than Dean’s ever seen from any man he’s been with.

Dean’s a close second. His abandoned cock drips precome while Dean spreads his legs, gives Castiel an ample view from the foot of the bed, leaving the most vulnerable parts of him on display, purely for Castiel’s enjoyment. It’s better now, hotter than it probably should be when Dean sinks a lube-slicked finger into himself, past that tight ring and into where he wants it the most. He takes it slow at first, purely intending to enjoy himself under Castiel’s scrutiny, unwilling to stroke his prostate just yet. One touch, and it might all be over.

Castiel doesn’t make a noise until Dean’s up to his second, wet fingers reaching deep and bypassing that tempting bundle of nerves entirely, purely to stretch himself out, get himself ready. Not that Castiel plans to fuck him, but the very idea of it makes his toes curl, leaves his stomach in knots, cock spurting fresh precome. “Cas,” he mutters, eyes rolling back when he teases himself with a third digit, sliding it in alongside the others. Ever so softly, Dean hears Castiel moan, and a shiver runs up his spine. Such a beautiful sound, one he could record and never grow tired of.

If only Castiel were _touching_ him. “Want you in me,” Dean groans and finally gives in, strokes his fingers over his prostate for a long second, enough to make him gasp and convulse. It takes a minute for him to calm down and slip his fingers free, clenching around nothing in the aftermath. “Know you want it,” he taunts again and opens his legs wider, lets Castiel see all of him, see how thick and red his cock his, how his ass shines with lube, the red flush that paints his chest.

And Castiel does nothing, just continues to watch him with a smirk. On occasion, Dean sees his hips twitch, a wet spot forming at the front of his sweats. Dean wants nothing more than to give up and nuzzle him, suck him through his clothes and let Castiel pull his hair, urge him closer, deeper.

Dean does none of those things, simply takes the purple vibrator Castiel offered and slicks it up, teases himself with it while Castiel adjusts himself through his pants. “Want this to be you,” Dean exhales, just as he arches his hips and presses the thick head into himself, lets it catch on his rim before he pushes it in deeper. He knows the sight he makes, knows because Castiel has made Dean watch himself in the privacy of Castiel’s room, made Dean watch how hard he comes when Castiel fucks him in front of the wall mirror Castiel dug up from storage.

Really, it shouldn’t have come as a shock that he likes being watched so much—he’s never admitted it to anyone but Castiel, and now Castiel exploits it every chance he gets, always teetering on the edge of discreet and obscene, and Dean’s honestly shocked Castiel hasn’t tried to get him off in public yet. _Someday_ , Dean muses, just as he pushes the vibrator in to the hilt, allows it to sit while he adjusts around its girth. Castiel bought it last month on a whim, along with a leather strapped chest harness and clamps Dean’s been too wary to try.

 _Someday_ , Dean repeats. Someday, he’ll tell Castiel everything, down to his basest desires. For now, he settles for switching the vibrator on and thrusting it in deep, letting himself feel every ridge, every bump on its surface, hitting him in almost all the right ways. He flexes around it, feels it rumble where he needs it, his cock twitching and spilling more fluid onto his hip. It’s not the same, but he’ll take what he can, especially knowing Castiel is looking on in wonder, worshiping him with his eyes.

Said eyes are closed when Dean looks at him, Castiel too busy palming himself over his sweats to care about the noises Dean is making, how wrecked Dean is from something as simple as some toy. “Could be you,” Dean wheezes and reaches up to stroke himself, not too much pressure. He wants this to last, wants Castiel to finally cave and give him what he wants.

But that’s not Castiel’s plan, at least not tonight. Castiel, abandoning his cock, stands and pushes the chair away, pins Dean’s hips to the bed. “Take it out,” Castiel orders, low, sending a shudder through Dean all the way to his toes. And Dean complies, switches off the vibrator and pulls it free, sets it on the bedspread and waits. For Castiel to fuck him, to turn him over, to leave him to get himself off by hand, Dean doesn’t know.

What he gets is Castiel pulling him up and off the bed and him to stand in front of the picture window opposite the door, overlooking the lakeshore at the back of their motel, the moon bouncing off the water’s surface. “Face the window,” Castiel says, firm, and pulls the curtains fully open, exposing both of them to the outdoors, nothing but the stars their witness.

For a while, Dean revels in Castiel’s hands on his chest, stroking broad paths down Dean’s sweating stomach while he nips at Dean’s ear, letting out warm breaths that leave him shivering. Dean hooks an arm behind Castiel’s head and holds him there, his other hand splayed on the glass, his fingers steaming the surface of the pane. “C’mon,” Dean begs when Castiel sucks at his neck, licking up to his jaw and just under his ear, hiding a kiss there. “C’mon, want you t’fuck me.”

“Not today,” Castiel cautions. He lets his hand drift lower and cups Dean’s cock, hot and heavy in his grasp. Using Dean’s precome, Castiel strokes him slow, Dean following his hand, hips shuddering with the effort. “You’re beautiful when you beg,” Castiel tells him and teases a peaked nipple with his free hand, pinching Dean until he squirms away. “It’s almost like you want to get caught.”

Dean’s mouth drops open, and for a split second, he feels himself burn hotter, his cock twitching with the implication. Castiel notices and stops, hides a smirk under his jaw. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he questions, his hand idly stroking up and down Dean’s shaft, thumb teasing the slit and drawing forth more fluid. Dean flushes with the sounds Castiel draws out of him, bordering on a whine. “You’d like them to see how red you are, how hot you burn for another man’s touch. You want them to see you writhe, don’t you?”

Castiel kisses his jaw and pulls Dean’s hand from his neck, instructing him to grab the window. Dean feels Castiel at his back, his smooth, warm skin pressed to his own, Castiel’s erection riding the cleft of his ass through the mess of lube that slicks the inside of his thighs, so close to being where he wants it. It’s all too much and yet not enough, never enough.

“Please,” Dean moans, his breath heating the window when he rests his forehead there, his eyes drawn to the eerie quiet of the lakeshore. Someone could be watching him right then, watching the way his cock drips in Castiel’s hand, the way his entire body burns everything it touches, his fingerprints smudging the glass. The realization leaves him weak kneed and he collapses, his chest pressed to the pane while Castiel strokes him faster and continues to rub himself against Dean’s ass. “Please, _Cas_.”

“Someone could walk by,” Castiel whispers in his ear, slides a hand down to Dean’s hip and squeezes. “What would you do, then? Knowing they could see you like this, see how much you’re begging for it.”

“Want it,” Dean pants. He pushes back against Castiel’s erection, hard enough for Castiel to pull him closer, half to keep Dean still, half to use him. His moan reverberates when Castiel nips his throat, nape, and Dean can’t even bother keeping quiet, not when Castiel is intent to get him off right there, in front of the window for the world to see. “Fuck, ‘m gonna—.”

“Come,” Castiel says, calm as ever, and fists Dean’s cock even faster, the slick sounds of it heating Dean’s face until he can barely stand being in his own skin. Come splatters onto the window pane before his orgasm reins him in, his moan caught in his throat. Never once does Castiel slow, either, just keeps stroking him while Dean begs for mercy, fingers gripping the glass for purchase, torn between wanting to run and wanting more. Oversensitivity leaves him raw, especially when Castiel draws a second orgasm from him, white staining and dripping down the pane, all the way to the floor.

Dean is still gasping when Castiel shoves him to his knees, Dean’s face planted firmly against Castiel’s crotch, scalding against his cheek. “Tell me you deserve this,” Castiel demands and pulls his cock free, tapping Dean’s cheek with it.

Dean practically salivates with the touch; reaching up, he grips Castiel’s hips with both hands and laps at the base of his cock, never once looking away from Castiel’s eyes, pupils blown black. “Deserve it,” Dean begs, “Need it. Need you—.”

“Then take it.” Hand in Dean’s hair, Castiel slides his cock into Dean’s waiting mouth and holds him there, all while Dean moans and hollows his cheeks. Dean lets Castiel fuck his mouth without so much as a fight, revels in the silken feel of his thick length on his tongue, the head nudging the back of his throat just enough to tease his gag reflex. “So wet,” Castiel murmurs, his breath hitching, and Dean feels him swell even thicker in his mouth, precome and spit spilling from the corner of his lips.

Anticipation sears through him, just as it does whenever Castiel has used him for the last week, the hint of Castiel’s release sending another wave of arousal through him. If Dean had it in him, he’d be hard all over again, ready and waiting for Castiel’s hand on him, for _anything_ he can get. “Filthy,” Castiel huffs, thumbing the corner of Dean’s lips and gathering up the mixture there, pushing his thumb into Dean’s mouth. Dean’s eyes roll back, his moan loud around Castiel’s cock. “You’ll make me come, is that what you want?”

 _Of course_ , Dean thinks, pulling Castiel closer. And finally, after days of heated touches and the dissatisfaction with one sided releases, Castiel gives him what he wants and pulls out, with just enough time to spill across Dean’s face and onto his tongue, a week’s worth of come dripping down his face while Castiel pants through his orgasm, still gripping Dean’s hair.

Dean’s still winding down by the time Castiel sinks to his knees, their kiss anything but gentle; Castiel licks the come from Dean’s face and feeds it to him, and Dean swallows it down greedily, fisting Castiel’s hair. Less than graceful, but Dean will take what he can get, especially with the way Castiel shoves him to the floor and straddles his waist, letting every inch of their bodies press together. “Look what you did,” Castiel says; Dean laughs against his lips and steals another kiss, unwilling to let it end.

“You came on my face,” Dean smirks, smooths down Castiel’s sweat-tinged hair. “What happened to your little game?”

“That was a mistake on my part, thinking I’d be able to resist you for longer than a day,” Castiel quips back; he buries his face in Dean’s neck, pressing kisses to his flushed skin. “You ruined my pants.”

“You ruined that window with my _face_ ,” Dean snarks. “And jizz. I’m not cleaning that up.”

Castiel quirks a brow. “What if I told you to, though?”

Dean can’t even deny the deep flush rising up his neck with those few words, his cock twitching where it’s nestled next to Castiel’s. “…Clean it first,” Dean mutters, hoarse. “’M not lickin’ that damn window.”

Dean hums when Castiel kisses him, guides him to sit up. “We’ll discuss that later then,” Castiel says, promise in his tone. “I’m afraid I need another bath, though.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dean laughs, low. Castiel just rolls his eyes and stands, pulling Dean up and to his feet. Castiel’s cock is still hanging free from his sweats, half hard and waning; Dean strokes him softly, just enough to get Castiel to hiss before he lets go. “I’m gettin’ in with you,” he asserts, hands to Castiel’s ass. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

“I figured you wouldn’t be,” Castiel snickers. “Come, then.”

Dean follows without a word and watches while Castiel fills the tub for the second time that night, the cramped bathroom heated once again, even more when Castiel plasters Dean to the wall, his hands squeezing Dean’s ass and dipping into where he’s still wet, Castiel’s fingers slipping inside effortlessly. Dean moans into their kiss, his cock still too soft to do much with; another few minutes, maybe, and they can go for round two, preferably with Castiel right along with him.

For now, he lets Castiel lead him to the tub, climbs in after Castiel has situated himself, Dean’s back to Castiel’s front. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, their knees bent above the water and resting on one another. Warm, calming; Dean falls into the lull of it, Castiel’s rhythmic breathing at his back and the gentle slosh of water when Castiel strokes down Dean’s chest soothes the residual tension from his bones, until he’s pliant and lax against Castiel. “’S nice,” he murmurs into Castiel’s neck after a while, sleep drunk.

Castiel’s chest hollows when he laughs, the sound of it melodic, pleasant. “You should join me more often,” Castiel says, raking a wet hand through Dean’s hair and kissing his forehead. “There’s a clawfoot tub in one of the bedrooms that I spend my evenings in.”

Dean purrs against Castiel’s neck and settles, resting his hands on Castiel’s hands on his stomach. “’Mma have to take you up on that,” he says, a promise.

One he intends to keep.

**Author's Note:**

> So I totally forgot I was posting this today, even though I wrote it a month ago. Here you go! Thanks to Liv for betaing for me, as always :D
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


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